Blood Red Sea
by Syri-LLC
Summary: Daniel did not remember falling asleep for those few crucial moments. He didn't remember his torso slumping further over the rail, and overbalancing, and the first several feet of his fall down towards the churning ocean were lost to him. All he had in his mind was a vague sense of deep, writing red. (Loading-screen inspired)


He thought he had gotten use to traveling by boat. It had been some years since he'd suffered the queasiness and spinning stomach of sea sickness, and he had, with confidence, assumed that this inconvenience was behind him. After all, it was an inevitability, with his job taking him across much of the Northern Hemisphere in everything from a carriage to a camel, a simple, sturdy ship would almost be a luxury. Yet on this evening, Daniel felt himself ill at ease, and seeking the salty cool air on deck to try and settle his stomach. And perhaps his nerves as well.

He was heading back home to London...surely that happy thought ought to be counterbalancing his anxiety. Yet he wasn't sure he was ready to be back in England. He'd been planning this expedition for some time, and to be send home so suddenly...was i truly so dangerous for him to stay? He felt fine, more or less, and they'd barely started the last leg of their journey. Herbert just seemed so...persistent. Go home, he'd been told. Rest, put this out of your mind. Had he really been in such a state when they pulled him from that tomb? Granted, he didn't seem to remember much of it, as he'd been told a full hour had passed.

Daniel fiddled nervously with the buttons of his overcoat, slipping the copper coin through the pleat over and over again. Perhaps he had been in some sort of state; had he looked pale, sick, or shaky? He supposes. In any case, there wasn't anything he could do now. He was simply told to go home, and plan for a dig they were hoping to organize in India soon.

he inhaled deeply; it smelled wonderful out at sea. The deck was too far up and the water too calm to feel the spray over his face, which would have been nice. It sounded refreshing, calming. Below, the sloshing waves were a murky but beautiful, icey looking blue, very much akin to-

Ah. How could he forget, for even a few moments? The quartz-like jagged shards wrapped with care and resting in his trunk shimmered and almost seemed to glow with a color similar to the sea, but much more...lavender? Turquoise? He couldn't quite recall the exact hue, save for its chilling beauty. The way the light reflected off tis surface and rippled and- He shook his head, finding himself falling into a daze again. While he'd felt in fine health the 17th, ever since, he would admit, he'd felt somewhat sluggish from his lack of sleep. Horrid nightmares plagued him in bed, robbing his mind and body from any real rest. That, along with the swaying and bobbing of the boat, the later twilight sun glittering in ribbons, and the queer feeling thoughts about that relic gave him, and he almost thought he could fall asleep right at the railing! He chuckled to himself at that; can't sleep in a comfortable, warm bed, but out on deck in the middle of the sea?

He rubbed at his eyes, clearing the drowsiness from them. He likely could crawl into bed right now and let sleep take him, but he wouldn't remain its hostage for long. An hour or two at a time was his norm, till he woke bathed in a cold sweat and screaming.

Daniel leaned forward to rest heavily against the sturdy guardrails. It would still be a week before they arrived in England, perhaps a bit sooner with a good wind. He wondered if those in the cabins near him wondered what sent him into such a panic. Nightmares at home could be more manageable, supposing they continued until then.

"Simply a worried mind," he whispered out loud to himself, and scrubbed harder at his eyes and brow. Yes...I'll head to bed here in a moment...perhaps I can..can ask the ships physician for something to cap me off for the night...

But still he couldn't find the will to drag himself back to his room just yet. It was soothing up here, with such fresh air. Behind him, to the East, the horizon was growing dark with deep bruises of purple and indigo, whereas the West was a blaze of firey sunlight. It should have hurt to look at, but with his eyes so heavy...

Daniel did not remember falling asleep for those few crucial moments. He Didn't remember his torso slumping further over the rail, and overbalancing, and the first several feet of his fall down towards the churning ocean were lost to him. All he had in his mind was a vague sense of deep, writing red.

Hitting the water, though, snapped him awake with a shock and a lung bursting gasp, just an eyes bling before his head went under.

A lungful of air was his blessing, as were the strong survival instincts of one in sudden danger as he thrashed and kicked his way to the surface, the tepid air and cold water merging to feel like prickling ice on his face.

"Help!" he managed to scream out, eyes closed tightly against the burning sea water. "H...Help me!"

He was heavy. Though a decent swimmer, he'd never taken a dip fully clothed in drawers, a shirt, vest, overcoat, trousers and shoes, and certainly never so far out into such unfathomably deep water! This was the last desperate thought to cross his mind before he felt the waves trying to drag him back under again. Thrashing his arms against the water as hard as he could, he fought its pull, and fought for another breath...to scream for help? To hold beneath the waves? He didn't know, he was beyond conscious effort with panic. Had anyone even seen him fall?

Bitter salt spread across his tongue as he sank, trying to trickle into his throat. Up...he had to kick up...was he going up? Or down? Or flailing himself about in circles? Ho was he to...to tell...

That's when the pain in his chest began, an indescribable aching burn behind his breast bone. The same instincts that so wisely reminded him to kick and tread were now telling him, breathe! Open your lungs, breathe in! Daniel did everything he could to fight it, gasping again only as his head broke through the foam once more.

"Some...Someone! Please-!"

His lungs filled, but not only with air. The burning was not quenched with this water, but only intensified, as he body spasmed to rid itself of this foreign and unwanted liquid. Lower, and heavier he sank, his last breath of air rushing out his nose in a burst of bubbles. All around him was silence, the deafening heaviness of the sea. In the most vague sense, he almost felt it had a physical, solid weight with which it suffocate him...it felt solid, like some creature snaking at his leg...would he become the dinner of sharks? What else would be prowling the waters so far out from land, and brushing so frightengly close to him?

Fire burned amidst the water behind his rib, and his mind began to go as black as the darkness around him...he was feeling lighter now, almost as though the water were rushing by as he sank...he couldn't anymore. The pain was too great, his body's instincts to breathe too powerful...

Daniel was unconscious as he was somehow rejected by the sea and returned to its surface, at the very moment he tried to breathe.

Red. Like blood, like a congealed mass of still warm, still writhing blood, pressing against his body as though he were bleeding in reverse, this mass wanting to press into his skin. It covered his limbs, constricting them, causing pain in his fingers and toes, and spiraling up his body. It cinched his stomach, encircled his chest, and SQUEEZED-

Breath rushed into his lungs at a painful force as the thing ...released him...? Left..it left...Where had it gone in only a heartbeat?

Braving the sting of saltwater, Daniel pried his eyes open, and immediately noticed the absence of darkness. This was...how? He'd been...

He let his weary eyes slipped closed again; the effort to focus them seemed to far exceed the strength he had to expend. In the darkness here, he saw the sea, alight with the sun, churnig and sloshing into white-foam waves breaking against the ship. THat's where he had been, hadn't it? he could still feel the bitter, stinging wetness clinging to his body, as well as the forceful grip of a half-dozen hands, and angry vices barking orders in a language he barely knew.

The wood below him...he was back on deck, he was safe on the boat! Though he hadn't had a fraction of the time needed to feel true fear at his former situation, Daniel deeply felt the relief of a hard surface under his back, and tried again to take a look at his surroundings..yes! Yes, on deck...how had they saved him? How had anyone even heard him? Perhaps...he had just imagined it? He couldn't then explain why he was drenched, or why his chest felt clawed apart on the inside, but the darkness of the ocean trying to consume him was a theme that fit squarely into his nightmares, as well as the...

Red. He had turned his gaze over to railing, to the spaced wood beams meant to guard fools like him from falling overboard, but instead of the blue and gray of the water below, he saw only a sea of writhing, wriggling red. A mass of blood and meat grinded into hellish soup. Churning and coiling itself into demonic limbs, spindly and sloshing and sounding like the butchers knife-

He wondered if he had screamed this hard as he hit the water.

The first thing on Daniels mind as he awake was not his sojourn into the sea but instead, how surprised he was not awake in a fit of panic but, instead, to rouse gently as a normal person should. Though he couldn't say he felt well rested; aside from some sort of exhaustion foreign even to him, he was immediately aware of a scraping in his lungs, and how his breath ached. How his head seemed to throb...and only then did Daniel recall his evening.

His eyes shot open, blessedly not graced with the image of coagulated blood on the ceiling, but merely a few rough wood beams and a lantern, emitting an almost charming amber light around the...where was he? This wasn't his bed. Nor was the one next to his, or the next...ah. He must be in the physicians ward, then, meaning he did nearly meet his own end in the water. He could see him there, across the room, hunched over a desk and working on notes, or a correspondence. He didn't feel at all like speaking- the very thought caused more pain than Daniel wanted to tolerate right then. He'd rather just lie here, and try to remember what had happened. Had he really fallen asleep at the railing? Truly? he shook his head at his own idiocy. Such was something to expect from a drunk, tipping himself over a bridge on his way home from a pub! Not...not from him.

Daniel tried to roll over, thinking it would perhaps ease the tension on his ribs, but it only aggravated it, and he couldn't stifle a small cry, alerting the doctor that he was awake. Daniel could hear his papers shuffle and his chair scrape back across the wooden floor.

"Ah…Daniel, was it?" Half didn't expect you to wake. Not tonight, at least."

Daniel didn't know what to say at such an uncouth implication, and simply made a small, vague noise in his throat as the old gentleman made note of his pulse and skin and laid another blanket over him; that part, Daniel was grateful for. Though dry and dressed in a warm nightshirt, it was a cold cabin, and his body seemed to recall the frigid water.

"You're very lucky, boy," he said in an almost scolding tone. "If there hadn't been a few other men on deck nearby, nobody would have seen you fall; you just tipped right on over, from what I heard!"

Again, Daniel didn't know how to respond, so he said nothing, but felt a splash of shame coloring his face.

The doctor stared evenly for a while, before standing to cross the room and rummage through a tall paneled cabinet. "Do you sleep well?"

Ah, this Daniel knew. "I…not as well recently as I have been," he admits. "Though I didn't think I was the sort to fall asleep standing up!"

A quick "Hm" was the doctors only reply, pouring a dribble of something or other into a shallow glass, and adding a generous splash of cheap liquor. He passed it over to Daniel, with instructions to drink it quick, and not to kick at his blankets.

"You don't have a fever yet, but I assure you, you'll be damned luckly if you don't catch pneumonia. Now drink."

Daniel felt far too disoriented still to argue. He hurt, and though he cringed at the bitter taste, he tipped his glass down in one gulp. The last thing he needed now was a sickness of the body, while he was battling one in his mind, more or less.

Those nightmares…were they spreading to his wakeful times as well? Some sort of delirium? No…he prayed now, and it seemed unlikely. He'd been through a trauma, and was dreadfully sleep deprived anyway. He knew what sorts of nasty tricks the mind could play on the senses! In Egypt once he'd suffered an awful heatstroke and had wandered about the dig site for a half hour looking for his father's shop. Not an argument in the world had been able to convince him that he was standing ankle deep in the scorching sands and not home in London! So surely, going 3 days with barely any sleep could do the same!

…That had to be it. Just his unrested mind, his stress…because there was no other acceptable explanation. The water had become saturated with what he could only describe as blood, as though Moses had emerged from Heaven to seek a righteous revenge on a new foe. That was not something he had truly seen; such an idea was beyond absurd. His eyes weren't weak, and that left only the possibility that he had hallucinated the entire thing.

He pulled his blankets higher, still shivering. It hardly seemed fair, that it was such ghastly images and shrieking that haunted his sleep, and was now leaking over into his waking hours! Well…he planned on perhaps seems someone when he was home. Someone who could ward off those terrifying images…until then, all he could do was lie back, try to get warm, and pray whatever drugs were now giving him a foggy feeling of lightness could provide him of just one evenings sleep…just one evening without the screaming, without the bodies…

Without the blood.


End file.
